


Holy Book of McHanzo and Overwatch

by NostalgicNerd



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also just stuff about the Shimadas in general??, Angst, Fluff, I tend not to write happy endings to my angst so beware, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lots of little stories, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Self-Harm, a collection of some McHanzo I wrote, none of them are really connected, some headcanons, ultimate swap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NostalgicNerd/pseuds/NostalgicNerd
Summary: A lot of writings are going to be in this book:Backstories for HanzoMcHanzo angsty timesAUs for McHanzoEven a dragon headcanon





	1. Droning

**Author's Note:**

> This mini-story is written from Hanzo's POV  
> Younger Hanzo to be specific  
> This is a piece in the Hanzo backstory bit of the book

Each day my time is filled with schedules. First is piano, where I must play and practice for hours. It is meticulous; at times my fingers hurt from all the playing, but I do not mind. Mother wanted me to learn piano, and if it were not for her wishes I would be sent to spend more time in training. I am thankful for the times I have the melodies from the ivory keys.

Afterwards, I train. There is much archery and kendo. I am trained how to break someone’s neck in ten different ways, and to leave no mess behind. I can be as silent as the mouse in the cupboard, and I can see as far as a mountain hawk.

Then I learn to behave. Father says discipline is everything, and that wit can be the difference between a deal or your death. I agree, and listen with careful ears. He shows me how to hide even the slightest hint of emotion, how to keep a cold stare in the face of danger. His methods are harsh, but I remind myself they will help in the future.

At the very end of the day, when the sun’s orange light begins to fade, I climb to the top of the castle. I can see everything from there, a whole empire spread out before me. Sometimes my brother will join me, and I tell him stories that mother told me years ago. 

He is young, his responsibilities less than mine. Often he spends time playing games while I go to lessons. It is nice for him, that he can stay this way after all this time. I feel envy over his freedoms, but then I am reminded not to. Father is disappointed in him, and so then am I. 

If spending my days this way will be honourable then I must. I continue with my lessons for many years until father can teach them no longer. At that time everything I have learned is put into place and I face the most important test of them all. 

The piano reminds me I can find peace if needed, the discipline reminds me to always have wit and resilience, and the training reminds me to be ruthless. And my brother? He reminds me to eliminate anything that stands in the way of the clan’s success. With blade in hand, I shall. 


	2. The Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon about the dragons  
> Also kind of written from Hanzo's point of view

You could never forget the first time your dragons appear. It feels like pain and exhilaration all at once. The spirits rip from your skin with a powerful force as their first awakening, yet there is no blood or injury to be left behind. Once they are freed from their prisons their actions are intense. 

They act purely on your own emotion and thought. They attack targets with ferocity, as if they were starving to do so. You grow up to learn you have the control, but in the first moments it is all up to them. In some cases, I have been told the dragons turn on the Shimada they are cased in. 

Eventually, through practice, you can learn to guide the spirits. With a sword the dragons maintain much of the control, but with my arrows I can guide them with great precision. With my arrows there is a harmony between the spirits and I.

I have had this great harmony and control for years, yet… on that night it was as if the dragons were appearing for their first time. I felt a pain as the spirits lifted from my skin, and as I swung the wakizashi at him they hardly kept to the blade as a guide. They were hungrier than I had ever seen them, and if they were acting on my emotion I am ashamed. For then it means I hungered to kill my own brother, like a secret but violent wish from the depths of my mind.


	3. Whispers (McHanzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A McHanzo chapter!  
> There will be angst

The tall brunette felt fingertips brush against his jaw, but he saw nothing. Every time he would blink there was nothing there but the sky. Along with the nothing there would be a warm chuckle, it was taunting almost. To feel someone so close to you, but not to see them. Hearing the chuckle a second time, and feeling the familiar brush of nimble fingers; the male’s warm brown eyes darted around in a frantic way.

“Don’t trust all that you see, Jesse,” the tone seemed familiar, but the words sounded so much like the whispers of wind.  _ He _ had never sounded that way before, yet Jesse felt his heartbeat quicken.

“Darlin’...?” Jesse barely spoke, his loud voice unusually quiet. The American sounded much like a lost child. His brown hues blinked again, and for a moment he could’ve sworn he saw  _ him _ , that he’d seen  _ his _ Hanzo.

Again there was that chuckle; Jesse loved that noise. “You crack me up McCree.”

“Wha-? But I didn’t… I didn’t say anything.” His smile; how could he have imagined that smile? It was so rare; Hanzo told him not to tell a soul he’d seen it. 

“Jesse…”

“Where have you been Hanzo? I… I miss ya. You gotta forgive me, you gotta…”

“Jesse.”

“I dunno what to do! You went away so long… Wontcha come back, sweetheart? Come back… please come back…”

“Jesse!”

The cowboy jumped. Suddenly the water dripping from his eyes felt all too real, and the beads of sweat rolling off his shoulders began to stick. In front of him stood Angela, a concerned look across her face.

“Oh good. You’ve been out for hours. Your vitals were far from normal.”

“Hanzo! Where is he? Where’s my cherry blossom?” Jesse’s voice was frantic, shaky. He remembered checking in with the Swiss medic, but everything else seemed a blur.

“Calm down Jesse. This sort of emotion isn’t good for you!”

“Please, I wanna see him.”

“Jesse, you can’t. You know you can’t,” her calm tone remained.

“Why not?! Why can’t I?! Huh?!” He yelled in her face.

“Jesse, he’s dead!” Angela’s exclamation sounded almost fearful.

“D-dead?” His eyes seemed to suddenly void themselves of their previous ferocity. A pained look cross his face, and the waterfalls of tears renewed themselves. “My archer… dammit!” 

Jesse tugged at his chestnut locks of hair, grimacing with pain that was more emotional than physical. His archer, his cherry blossom, his sweetheart, his darling, his  _ Hanzo _ . Taken from the sun by sacrifice. He had taken more than a few bullets for Jesse. The gunslinger would never forgive himself; just as Hanzo had never forgiven himself for coldness throughout the years. The dragons consume each other’s tails, and the implausible guilt flows on. 


	4. Haunting (McHanzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter which contains self-harm  
> Viewer be warned

It had become constant, a routine. Of course, Hanzo had never noticed this routine before he began spending nights in Jesse’s arms. Early into the morning, before the first rays of the sun could be seen, the archer’s nightmares would come to an end. He would sit up, his back straight as a board; Jesse looking over at him with worry. As Jesse would try to reach out to him, Hanzo would simply bring his legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. 

The scion would allow his legs to carry him away in an impulse, his pacing quick. Jesse never followed, not at first. He figured that his lover needed time, but soon that time was increasingly long and he found it difficult to stay put until Hanzo returned. Following Hanzo’s path, he stood in the bathroom doorway. Though he was squinting from the lights, he could clearly see the scene in front of him.

Hanzo’s raven hair flowed down his shoulders, and his coffee eyes appeared fearful and distant. The fear was furthered by his breathing which was quick and laboured, just as it had been when he first woke. Accompanying the sound of frantic breaths was the running water and mumblings. The sink was on, and under it’s running water, Hanzo washed his hands tirelessly. He washed them so much the ivory of his skin began to redden.

“ _ The blood,  _ **_his_ ** _ blood… I will never wash them clean. _ ” The soft Japanese mumblings repeated like a mantra.

“Hanzo…? Darlin’ stop that. What are you doin’ that for?” Jesse’s tone was concerned more than anything else; as he reached around the smaller male and turned the water off.

Still, Hanzo continued to scrub at his hands. It must’ve hurt, especially without the cooling of the water, but he didn’t stop. This time Jesse pulled Hanzo’s hands away from each other, and held one in each of his own. In the mirror McCree could see the archer’s eyes widen; he’d never seen him this way before, like a deer in headlights.

“It’s alright sweetheart… It’s over now,” the cowboy murmured that and other things in an attempt to calm the scion while he held him close to his chest.

“His blood… it’s staining my hands. They’ll know. . .”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about that anymore. I’ll kiss the stains away for you.”


	5. Wisps of Memories (McHanzo)

“You're up late, Han.”

“As are you, cowboy,” the archer replied, his tone sounding somewhat grumpy.

Jesse chuckled. “Not a big night owl, huh?”

“Something like that...”

A silence blanketed the kitchen and the two men stood in it comfortably, accompanied only by each other and one cup of tea. Eventually Hanzo edged closer to the gunslinger, and somehow ended up in his arms. It was a comforting hug, and this is what the both of them needed. 

Hanzo sighed. “It happened again, worse than the last time.”

“You gotta stop worrying darlin’. Genji always comes back just fine from missions.”

“I know. Still, I cannot help but think my brother will die before I can accept his forgiveness.”

“He won't. I worked with him for years. The man is almost faster than a bullet.” 

There was a short hum from Hanzo. “Maybe so.” 

Again the silence befell them, but now it was slightly less comfortable. Both men were scratching around for words to speak. Soon enough, McCree regretfully blurted the first thing to come to mind. 

“What are they like?”

Hanzo froze for a moment, and recomposed himself in half the time. Surely Jesse wasn't really asking about his dreams. He's hidden them away for so long, and never had the intent of revealing them.

“I-” 

“Don't! Ya don't gotta answer I mean… It was real unsightly of me to even think about askin’.”

“It is fine. I must talk about them eventually.”

“Ya really d-” Before Jesse could make a stumbling reply, Hanzo cut him off.

“Every night I see him; as always… he is unsuspecting. Because I was a coward; I could not even look my own brother in the eyes as I pressed the recently sharpened blade to his throat. Even in my dreams… I show him no mercy.” Quickly, almost like a flash of lights, Hanzo fell silent. 

His usually soft breaths softened farther. All his muscles tensed, and his mind began yelling at him to run away. Though, even if he truly wished to run, Jesse's arms were still firmly around him in an embrace.

“Damn Han, I'm sorry ya gotta see that,” the cowboy spoke up.

“It is what I deserve.”

“No it ain't. You're so good sweetheart, all ya need is love.”

“Then I am lucky to have you, Jesse.”

“And I’m lucky to have you, Han. Even if ya don’t think so yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really proofread my writing  
> If you notice any spelling errors, don't be afraid to point them out!


	6. Shattered (McHanzo)

Jesse smiled his usually bright grin; though this time it was only in place to reassure.

"Y'all head in without me. I'll help Hanzo keep an eye on the perimeter."

The rest of the team seemingly saw no problem with this; perhaps having two sharp shooters outside would be beneficial to those heading inside the warehouse. McCree waved them off and they went. From the rooftops, Hanzo gave a nod to Jesse before dashing into shadows for better cover.

Everyone seemed very focused and the gunslinger was glad to finally be alone. The team had fought their way to the warehouse, a big fight; it was lucky that nobody had been injured enough to keep them from completing the mission. At least, everything had seemed fine.

Today, Jesse McCree was glad to be alone because he was living in his final hour. He put his hand to the lower left side of his torso. Gritting his teeth, he pressed down in an attempt to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. Every once in a while, he looked up to the shadows where he knew Hanzo was hiding

He hoped Hanzo would never glance back in his direction.

He hoped the last thing he saw wouldn't be a distraught look on his lover's face.

He hoped he wouldn't have to hear the soft pitter-patter of Hanzo's feet as he swiftly climbed down from where he was, in an attempt to reached McCree before it was too late.

He hoped he wouldn't have to hear the archer shout into comms for help.

He had hoped to feel his darling's lips one last time before his last breath.

His hopes shattered like glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr post which talked about fatal injuries being unknown to the victim or their teammates


	7. Archer In Blue Jeans (McHanzo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the book was inspired by Train's song Angel In Blue Jeans  
> It reminded me of McHanzo and I really wanted to use it in at least one story!  
> Here's a link if you want to give it a listen sometime: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gAitqMG_Co

Jesse McCree was never a big believer in love at first sight, but that night changed everything. It was just supposed to be another job, another payment for bringing somebody to justice, but this person was different. Nothing about this man had seemed roguish, like many of the others who fell victim to Peacekeeper. 

Thinking back on that night, back to that failed job, it truly seemed odd. The name of the man he was hunting down was never given to him, he was simply given a picture which looked almost nothing like the man. In fact, Jesse never would’ve known this mystery man was his guy if it wasn’t for the unmistakable tattoo along his arm. The man’s clothing had been so casual and modern compared to the suit in the photograph. The male, whom Jesse had dubbed The Archer, had obtained multiple piercings and hardly looked so snot-nosed as he did in the image. Then again, he sure had acted in that snobbish way.

“Another mercenary sent to kill me no doubt,” The Archer had grumbled.

“Another one, huh? Dontcha worry, I’ll make sure justice is delivered this time.”

“That is what they all say.”

The man was swift and quick to draw his weapon. The bow appeared rather heavy, and it’s blue paint had been intricately carved into more than once. The stranger shot an arrow at McCree, but he rolled and the arrow missed. Not hitting the mark seemed to make The Archer annoyed, and as narrowly avoided a bullet, he attempted to shoot Jesse a second time. This arrow was even farther from its mark, and it seemed that annoyance hindered the stranger’s aim. 

As their fight went on, things got more intense. They were fighting hand-to-hand now, pushing and chasing each other; the stranger had nearly pushed the gunslinger into the river. Luck then took a turn toward the stranger’s favour as he managed to fall behind Jesse, who almost lost track of him at a turn in the forest path.

The stranger kicked the small of his back, pushing Jesse to his knees. Swiftly and harshly, Jesse’s right arm was forced behind him. It was mere seconds before the mercenary felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder; the bone, he realized, had been broken. The Archer was much more skilled and trained than he’d thought. 

“Have fun playing with your guns now,” the stranger paused for what sounded like a scoff, “cowboy.” 

Jesse wasn’t sure why, but now, as he sat around with his arm in a sling, he couldn’t get the stranger off his mind. Perhaps it was the proud look toward the fight’s end, or the way The Archer had appeared under moonlight that made the mercenary so mad about this stranger. Either way, McCree’s heart was a mess for the man who had escaped him. Some part of him hoped that someday he’d be able to wake up in the stranger’s arms. And for once he’d feel as if nothing could go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bigger story should be coming after this one  
> It'll be much longer than the others and contains an AU that I've created myself (at least I haven't seen it anywhere before)  
> I'm just waiting for the writing to complete read-through testing and then i'm all set to publish it for you guys\
> 
> PS  
> Sorry that I never indent paragraphs, from what i've seen it's a lot of work to try and do so on this website


	8. Blood Stains Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touches on lore for Hanzo and the headcanons I have for the way Genji's "death" played out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood warning  
> also pretentious Hanzo warning?? (which means young Hanzo, but not in a good McHanzo way, ya feel?)
> 
> Chapter written in Hanzo's POV

Perfection. That's what they always wanted of me. Doing it perfect the first time means not having to do it again, and now there is certainly no exception. This time I will do it perfect, there will not be a second time, and I will do it for myself rather than him or the clan. 

The rain is pouring, no doubt from the dragons rather than more natural causes, and despite the circumstances I cannot help but make an amused huff at the cliches. Being on this balcony has never been harder, and not solely from the rain. My purpose, my reason for being perfect in my actions tonight, stands right in front of me. 

I approach silently, just as I was taught, and everything else could not seem louder in this moment. His back is facing me, and it is difficult not to stop and stare at the single tattoo that stretches across his shoulders in the form of a dragon. Seeing the tattoo reminds me of how we held him to the ground that night while he suffered the pain of ink being forced to skin. The tattoo reminds me of who he is, and of his resistance. 

The blade feels heavy in my hands. He still hasn't turned around, as if he is waiting for something or knows I am there and is simply pouring trust into me. He remains completely still, and I don't have the courage to call attention to my presence. 

On the first strike, the blade digs deep into his right bicep. It is not enough to kill, it will not be enough for the elders. It is not perfect.

On the second strike the blade cuts into his lower left torso. He is already writhing, already screaming, and with such a hit it is unlikely to stop soon. I need to finish the job, yet it is as if I have forgotten any training about fatal points. Though, it is not as if I have forgotten he fears pain and for him I make the strikes swift.

The next strike is still far from perfect, surely he wouldn't die from this. I have not done my duty, I have not achieved the perfection. My mind has been cleared of feeling from the first moments I stepped onto the wood floor of this balcony, and as I continue to blindly strike, I do not intend to accept any feeling back now. 

It is five more strikes before I know my job is done. It seems the numbers are in my favour, and I know what I have accomplished will allow us to move forward. Below me his body is mangled, I can hardly make out his face which will only help me to process the damage. His tattoo has been scraped off, fitting as he never deserved it at all. It is disgusting, a bloody mess which I should not have to see. After all, the Shimada heir leaves no mess of his own for it is unfitting of his status. 

Blood coats my hands and the discarded blade as I stare down at the body, which I'm sure is hardly breathing if at all. I turn my head and hear myself snapping an order. Servants come rushing out, some looking sick at the sight while others seem either disdainful or sorrowful. 

"Clean this up, throw it over the ledge. The birds will deal with the rest," words cut a demanding line from my mouth as I push past the line of servants and into the castle. 

I simply stare down at my hands, my only thoughts being wonders of how many baths it will take before the blood finally leaves my fingernails. It is only a decade later that I realize blood stains forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Japan, 8 is a lucky number, hence the 8 strikes until Hanzo felt he had completed his duty 'perfectly'. The number eight represents prosperity in Japanese culture, and in ancient Japan it was a holy number. In numerology, 8 is considered the number of building and  
> sometimes destruction.


	9. Arrows of the Deadeye (McHanzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultimate Swap AU  
> I'd seen a lot where McCree gets dragons and wanted to experiment with the idea of Hanzo using Deadeye

"What...?" Hanzo spoke, his face portraying complete bewilderment. 

"What d'ya mean? What's goin' on over there?" Jesse was worried, and he had every reason to be.

Though the two were on a mission together, they'd become separated and both of them had enemy forces on their tails. They couldn't see each other's position, and only knew the other was a alive due to breathing or occasional swearing over the comm system. Hearing that sort of tone in Hanzo's voice, and not a swear was certainly something to spark worry. 

Jesse was uncertain about what was happening to Hanzo, and so was he. His face felt tingly and an instinct, like a voice in his head, shouted at him to use as many arrows as possible at once. This instinct told him to remain confident, and to trust that his aim was true. The voice was nothing like that of his dragons, and so he was hesitant. 

"There is a voice... I'm unsure..."

"A voice? Han, I ain't hearin' anything."

The archer did not respond as he began to hyper-focus onto his targets. He found it easy to do, a surprising fact as he usually focused on the enemies' movements rather than the enemies themselves. Perhaps it was the colours which allowed him to focus. His world slowly faded to monochrome, his enemies red like blood. The sound of a clock seemed to tick loudly in his ears.

He shot one arrow, and then another, each releasing quickly in rapid succession. Each arrow found its target. and each target met an instant death by a single arrow. It shouldn't have been possible, Hanzo knew that, but he was grateful that the threats had been eliminated. His head began to pound with pain, but he smiled in relief. 

"McCree, I'm heading your way."

A sort of cheer was heard in response. Jesse hadn't asked questions about the quick eliminations, and Hanzo wasn't going to ask them either. He managed a feat he had only witnessed the cowboy pull off before, and he was perfectly content with not having to explain himself.

~~~~

“Han your eye,” Jesse noted once they were safely on their way back to base. 

The archer self-consciously rubbed at his eyes. “What about it?” 

“Dunno I guess. I just… I thought I saw something.” The gunslinger gave a shrug, stroking Hanzo's cheek just under his right eye. “Must've just forgotten how pretty they are.”

Hanzo smiled and kissed Jesse's nose. “You are ridiculous.”

McCree laughed. “I love you too darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to start marking the McHanzo sections in this book as "(McHanzo)"  
> Hopefully some readers will find this helpful!


	10. A/N Concerning McHanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of an announcement from the author here

As this work is mostly for me to keep track of all my Shimada and McHanzo works

I won't be posting any of my huge works here

This means stories that are more than one chapter won't be here

Instead I'll be linking them throughout this work

Currently I have just published the first McHanzo work that is over 1 chapter long

You can find it on my works page, but I will also be leaving this [link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16926801/chapters/39770052) to the story

 

 


	11. Rift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may contain content unsuitable for some readers as one of its main points is the murder of a minor  
> READER DISCRETION ADVISED

It was late, the night hiding the two brothers from sight. Both climbed into the small window of an equally small house, the youngest brother moving before the older. The younger brother moved swiftly on his feet, so swiftly it would sometimes appear both of his feet lifted completely from the ground at the same time. For this reason, they called him Sparrow, and tonight his movement to get into the cover of shadows was as swift as always. The older brother was often referred to as Serpent, for his force and stealth were great; easily, he too could be concealed within slim shadows.

With the brothers concealed, the three people within the house were unsuspecting. All three, except for the young boy, who couldn't have been but five years younger than Sparrow, and who stood before them. He had seen them enter, and was sure to raise alarm if not for his childish awe. Two men had just sneakily climbed through his bedroom window, surely he thought they were ninjas or some awkward version of Santa Claus. 

"Woah. You guys must be super heroes!" The boy exclaimed, his face lighting up.

"How did you guess it? We _are_ superheroes!" Sparrow, whose name was really Genji, exclaimed with as much enthusiasm. With a young face and young age of 15, it was believable that Genji was actually excited. Serpent raised his eyebrows, giving Sparrow a pointed looked.

"You have really cool costumes! And swords! Duh!"

"And cool names! I'm Sparrow, and that's my sidekick. His name should be Grumpy, but we all call him Serpent instead."

Serpent shot a glare at Genji. "What are you doing?" He grumbled only to be ignored by Genji.

"I bet you guys save lots of people, huh? I should wake my mama and papa! They'd love to know superheroes came to visit for Christmas!" 

Right, it was Christmas Eve. What a way to spend the holidays, Genji thought. "I'll get them for you. No worries, my super senses told me exactly where they are." Serpent tried not to snort at his brother's claim. Super senses had told him exactly where the boy's parents would be, if super senses meant the clan elders.

"Alright Mr. Sparrow!" And with the young boy's reply, Genji left Serpent all alone with him.

Within a few minutes, Genji had managed to successfully kill the boy's father but the mother escaped. The mother ran toward her son's room with Genji chasing after her. He'd never hear the end of this from his brother, who would likely remind him he'd let someone escape once. 

Genji reached the doorway of the room and grabbed the mother by her waist, barley able to hold the grown woman there. He looked to Serpent for help, who drew his sword and with a swift motion brought the mother's head tumbling from her shoulders. The young boy had seen it all, and now stood paralyzed toward the back of the room for a few beats.

The boy ran forward, trying to escape death, but was blocked by Genji and the corpse of his mother. The boy cried out with fear, he cried out for help, but the vacation home was situated quite far from the town. Serpent lifted his sword into the air another time, and Genji's eyes widened with disbelief.

"Hanzo wait! He's only-!" Genji screamed, using his older brother's true name. In this moment he felt almost as scared as the young boy, who trembled in place, stuck between two assassins. The only difference between the assassins was, one never showed any mercy. So, with another clean cut, the boy too was dead at Genji's feet. Genji stared down, unsure what to feel. He'd witnessed his older brother kill someone barley younger than himself. What if Hanzo did the same to him one day? Would he show mercy then?

"It had to be done. We must report back to father. He will be wondering what took us so long," Hanzo responded coldly as he sheathed the bloodied sword.

The two brothers left the home, leaving this time at different speeds. One was slow with dejection, while the other was quick with apathy. Quick without apathy because he was taught he had to be in his family's line of work. The night of the murders created a rift in the relationship between the brothers, and a rift in the ease Hanzo found in dealing with his life and its duties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the content of this chapter, the book's rating will be changing
> 
> (This chapter is only partially proofread, as with many other things in this book)


	12. Bells Ringing (McHanzo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the tradition of Buddhist temples in Japan in which they ring a bell 108 times on midnight of December 31  
> The ringing of the bells are thought to rid people of sins during the previous year

Hanzo tried not to sigh as he stood alone and pressed against a wall. It was an hour until midnight, which meant there was a whole hour for unwanted reminiscing. It was the archer's second New Years party with Overwatch, and still, he felt as if nobody wanted him to be there. It didn't surprise him, but that didn't mean negative feelings didn't accompany the already negative feeling of not being wanted. He'd only gotten close with one person, and that someone had plenty of other friends in Overwatch to socialize with. The person wasn't even his brother, like some part of him had hoped, but it was Jesse McCree. Not that McCree was a terrible person, Hanzo had seen plenty of him to know that wasn't the truth, but the cowboy certainly wasn't someone he'd visualized himself spending so much time with. Nevertheless, he would've loved Jesse to be around now, but he was probably somewhere in the midst of the Overwatch agent swarm.

Hanzo's trained eyes flickered through the mass of agents, looking for a cowboy hat or sunshine smile, but he found neither. 'New Years used to be fun', he thought, beginning to think back on the past. While his face remained completely stoic, he could feel his heart smiling at memories of otoshidama, mochi, and poetry. Though he was part of a crime syndicate, his family had celebrated the welcoming of new years. Hanzo's memories became filled with the darkness of the celebrations that he later came to understand. The knowledge that the celebration had all been to distract from darker things happening behind doors made the frown on the scion's face deepen. Luckily, his thoughts were interrupted by an elbow resting atop his shoulder before they could get too somber.

Jesse stood there, drink in one hand and an unlit cigarillo in his mouth. "Not much for these get-togethers either, huh?"

Hanzo just stared at him confusedly. He'd thought Jesse the type of person to like socializing, and therefore parties. Perhaps the two things didn't always go together.

"Ah, I know what you're thinkin'. Nope, don't like parties. Too many questions and fake smilin' faces... at least with Overwatch," the gunslinger spoke, reminding Hanzo of Jesse's serious side.

"And what if we had a party to ourselves?" Hanzo finally spoke up, a twinkle in his eye coming along with the suggestion.

Jesse grinned. "Glad we're on the same track, Han."

The two shared a chuckle, and waited a moment to make sure nobody saw them slip away from the party. They went outside and headed to the spot where they usually met: up on the rooftops and close to the cliff's edge. Jesse lit his cigarillo as soon as they'd sat down, and Hanzo took that moment to take a sip of whatever drink Jesse had brought with him. Immediately, Hanzo reacted to the liquor with a wrinkled nose and narrowed eyes. It appeared as if the drink had offended him and Jesse laughed.

"What is...?"

"Don't ask me. Rein bought it and asked me to try it first. Wanted my _honest_ opinion."

"And did he get it?" Hanzo asked, but he already knew the answer to his question.

"Not even close," Jesse responded as Hanzo thought he would, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You are a child."

"Aw, c'mon. I saw your face a moment ago. You think it was pretty sly."

"It was... somewhat clever."

"There you go," the cowboy teased, giving Hanzo's hand a small squeeze.

Afterwards, the two made small conversation. In contrast to earlier feelings, the conversation stayed light and joyous. Jesse always seemed to have that effect on Hanzo's mood, and though the latter was unaware, he made Jesse feel that way too. As their conversation reached another comfortable silence, both men turned back to look at the base.

Inside, the countdown to midnight had begun. Eager voices could be heard, even on the outskirts of the base, where the archer and gunslinger sat. A short laughter-like sound escaped Jesse's lips at the sound of all the chanting agents. Hanzo turned back toward the darkened sea just as the countdown hit the number eight.

Seven.  
Jesse snuffed out his cigarillo.

Six.  
The cowboy downed the drink which Hanzo had deemed awful.

Five.  
Hanzo continued to stare intently out to sea, enjoying the comfortable silence but hoping he'd hear Jesse speak another time tonight.

Four.  
The archer noticed that Jesse had seemed to scoot a bit closer to him, and he decided he didn't mind.

Three.  
Jesse placed a hand over Hanzo's, cool metal tangling fingers with warm flesh.

Two.  
The gunslinger tapped the archer on the shoulder, and they locked eyes. Jesse had noticed it every night since they started meeting up, but tonight he took special care to notice how Hanzo's eyes reflected the beautiful stars and matched the darkened ocean waves.

One.  
Hanzo too had noticed something about Jesse's eyes. The way the honey colours could sparkle with childlike happiness one moment, and shine with determination in the next; it always set the archer's heart fluttering. He decided he wouldn't mind getting stuck this way so long as Jesse did too, but the gunslinger had different plans. Honey eyes shut, becoming hidden by tan eyelids. As monastery bells rang in the distance, signalling another midnight, Jesse closed the ever shortening gap between himself and Hanzo. 

Somewhere, fireworks went off, but Hanzo ignored them in exchange for focusing on the panic rising in his chest. He hadn't expected it, the feeling of Jesse's warm and chapped lips against his soft ones, and it froze him in place.

Jesse pulled away, an apologetic look crossing his face. However, no apology ever got to leave the cowboy's lips as Hanzo grasped his shirt and pulled him into another kiss. This time, the archer would be sure to enjoy the giddy feelings of his first New Year's kiss, and Jesse would be happy to relive them as many times as Hanzo needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing you guys a positive 2019!
> 
> Hope you didn't mind me writing a bit of a cheesy New Year's kiss
> 
> (Monastery bells were a total afterthought, and my weird way of replacing fireworks for some reason)


End file.
